


Pull My Strings

by therobotjay



Category: Marvel (Comics), Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics)
Genre: Bottom Quentin Quire, Exhibitionism, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Quentin Quire is a whole ass mood, Quentin is a Disaster Bisexual, Teen Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 15:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therobotjay/pseuds/therobotjay
Summary: After Quentin's inheritance of the Phoenix Corporation, Logan sends Spider-Man to keep an eye on him. Quentin, of course, realizes this immediately and decides to make the web-slinger's assignment as awkward as possible.Then they hook up.





	Pull My Strings

**Author's Note:**

> \- I know that in Wolverine and the X-Men, Peter is older. I aged him down specifically to avoid the kind of backlash that Logan/Quentin causes. I don't get it personally, it's fiction about fictional people, but whatever. They're both teenagers. Horny teenagers.  
> \- I prefer Quentin's energy to be pink like it is in Generation X. So sue me.  
> \- This is a really dumb ship based on one throwaway panel in Death of Wolverine but Quentin telling Logan that he'd been giving Spider-Man the "Full Monty" was just too good.

Quentin Quire knew the moment Spider-Man set up camp outside the window of his penthouse. Sent by “Professor” Logan, no doubt, to keep an eye on him. What he wasn’t sure of, however, was whether Logan was scared he’d do something evil or if he just wanted him home.

Home? _Home_? No. _Fuck_ that.

Quentin could feel Spider-Man’s mind lurking in the darkness, bored but attentive, buzzing at the edge of his senses.

His only option was obvious: to make the nerd’s night as miserable as possible.

Quentin shrugged out of his cardigan, tossing it over the back of a chair. His shirt followed. He pushed his fingers through his pink hair, smoothing it back. A fake yawn, a stretch, then his fingers moved to the front of his pants.

The spike of nervousness that came from outside his window was vindicating. He fought back a smirk. _That’s right, Spider-Dweeb, get ready for the Full Monty_.

Quentin’s shorts dropped to the floor, leaving him in nothing but a pair of cotton-candy pink boxer-briefs and white socks. A surge of embarrassment from his unwelcome guest only served to egg him on. Facing away from the window, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and tugged them down, bending over, giving Spider-Man a nice thorough mooning.

Surely that was enough to shoo the arachnid pest away, right?

Apparently not.

Spider-Man’s tense unease didn’t fade. It just sat there watching as Quentin did a few stretches, touching his toes then pulling his arms up over his head.

Well then.

Nonchalantly, Quentin turned and strolled over to the window, gazing out over the city in a good semblance of quiet contemplation, only feet from where the web-slinger was lurking.

And still, Spider-Man didn’t move.

Time to break out the big guns, then.

With a wave of his hand, Quentin called into existence a glowing pink chaise lounge made entirely of his mental energy. Like a swooning maiden, he fell back on the lounge, one leg bent at the knee and the other hanging off the side.

“Ugh, I hate it here. It’s so lonely,” he said, loud enough that Spider-Man’s hearing would surely pick it up but quiet enough that it would seem like he was talking to himself. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up one thigh, teasing along the sensitive skin. The shiver that chased through him almost broke his facade with a giggle but he stifled it, instead tossing his head back dramatically.

A soft moan escaped him as he gripped the base of his shaft, giving his hardening cock a slow stroke.

_Seriously? Oh, come on…!_ came a particularly loud thought from outside the window, causing Quentin to barely choke down a snicker.

_Spy on me, will you?_

The discomfort, irritation, and general embarrassment rolling off of Spider-Man was a potent aphrodisiac. Quentin spit in his palm and slicked saliva over his length, shifting so he could tug at his nipples, moaning loudly.

Within minutes, he was teetering on the edge, between the nerd’s unhappiness and his own pumping fist.

_I should make this as nasty as possible for the little creep._

Giving one pale nipple one last painful tug, Quentin rolled onto his knees, shoulders pressed against the surface of his energy-lounge, ass in the air. He stuck two fingers into his mouth, sucking them off, getting them dripping wet with spit, then reached back to finger his ass.

He could almost feel the blush on Spider-Man’s cheeks.

“Mmm, fuck yes, that’s it,” he moaned, working his fingers in and out, cock dripping freely on the lounge. That would be a mess when he dismissed it but mopping up cum would be worth chasing his pervy spy away.

Plus, he found that he liked showing off. He did have a great body, after all. The best body that a life of video games and avoiding physical labor could give, really. _A beautiful cock_...he returned his other hand to his shaft, stroking roughly… _a great ass_...he pushed his fingers in deeper, relishing the stretching sensation… _gorgeous mouth_...he gasped out a choked scream as his orgasm crashed over him, bowing his back, splattering his mental construct.

Panting, Quentin brought his cum-covered hand to his mouth, licking his fluids off of his fingers, messily and enthusiastically. _Damn, I’m delicious._

And yet, the web-slinger was still hanging outside his window.

With a sigh, Quentin got to his feet, legs a bit wobbly underneath him, and dismissed his lounge with the wave of a hand. Strictly speaking, the hand-waving wasn’t necessary, but it added a certain dramatic flair. He chuckled as his cum dropped to the floor, leaving a small puddle.

“That,” he said reflectively, “is the maid’s problem.” With a genuine yawn, he tugged his pink boxer-briefs back on and headed for bed.

_There’s always tomorrow, Spider-Dork._

* * *

A week passed. A week of Quentin coming up with more and more inventive ways to fuck himself stupid just to irritate the spy. A week of new and creative uses for his powers. Some of which he stored away for later reuse.

Like the tentacles he’d employed last night.

He’d been sure the glowing pink appendages pushing into his mouth and down his throat, holding down his wrists and ankles, fucking into his ass while they jacked off his cock would be what finally got the jerk to leave.

But as dusk fell, Spider-Man’s presence was once again outside of his window.

Quentin popped off his shirt and dropped his shorts but before he pulled down his pink skull-patterned boxers, he sighed. This just wasn’t fun anymore.

“You might as well come inside,” he said to the window, arms crossed and one eyebrow arched. When he didn’t receive a reply, he stalked over and opened the window, glaring up at the peeping Spider. “Seriously? You’re going to ignore me as if I’m unaware of your presence? I’m an Omega-level mutant, web-for-brains. And you lurking outside my window and watching me jack off is just creepy if you know that I know that you’re there.”

Dropping out of the shadowy nook that had been his post for the past week, Spider-Man swung onto the window sill, sitting with his legs inside the room. “When did you figure it out?”

Quentin gestured at his face with a circular, encompassing motion. “Omega-level mutant. I knew the moment you started spying, perv.”

Spider-Man was silent for a moment then, “So you--”

“Have been putting on show for a single captive audience member every night, in the hopes of pissing you off and, in turn, pissing off the Old Man.” Quentin tilted his head, grinning. “Didn’t work, though, did it? I figured you’d tap out. Tag in one of the hornier Avengers. Leave the babysitting detail to Murdock or...what’s the other one? The dude who’s like you and Logan had a kid and gave it leprosy?”

“Deadpool?”

“Yeah, that’s him! I hear he’s lewd as fuck. Probably would’ve enjoyed it. Of course, when you look like that…” Quentin laughed and shook his head. “ _Anyway_. You stayed for a _whole week_. Watching a teenager jerk off. Do you feel gross? You should feel gross.”

“ _I_ should feel gross? You--” Spider-Man took a calming breath. “It was my assignment. I wasn’t going to pass it off to someone else.” Spider-Man moved into the room in one liquid motion, standing just a few inches taller than the mutant. “Plus, I’m a teenager too, which makes it significantly _less_ gross than if I called in one of the dudes in their thirties.”

“So you were just taking one for the team, huh?” Quentin stepped closer, smirking up at the other boy’s masked face. “Doubtful. You know what I think? You know what I _know_? That you liked what you saw.”

Spider-Man rolled his eyes, somehow making it evident even though his mask wasn’t quite that expressive.

Quentin grinned and tapped his temple. “I’ll be honest with you, Spider-Dork, at first I was just getting off on your discomfort. And day two? You got _angry_. It was hot.” His grin got wider. “But by day four, you were curious. Interested. And day six? Turned the fuck on.” His ran his teeth over his bottom lip. “And last night, with the tentacles? I’m surprised you didn’t stain your spandex.”

Spider-Man shook his head, waving a hand dismissively, and turned to leave.

“You know, I wanted to be insulted.” Quentin’s words gave the web-slinger pause. “That the so-called Professor would send you to spy on me. _Me_. Getting spied on by some nerd that got bit on the dick by a radioactive spider. Pathetic.”

“It bit me on the hand!”

“That’s a shame. Way less interesting. You should tell people that it bit you on the dick. Made you a great lover. They might even buy it. _Then_ you could finally get laid!” Quentin snickered.

Spider-Man turned back angrily to face the teen. “I’ve gotten laid, you twerp! I’m actually pretty good at -- wait, why the _heck_ am I justifying myself to you?”

Quentin smirked. “Because after watching me for a week, you _know_ I have skills?” He stepped forward, closing the gap between them. “Gotta be honest though, Spidey -- or should I call you by your actual name, _Parker_? -- I got bored. Thought maybe it was time for some…” He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “...audience participation?”

Spider-Man -- Peter -- reached up and pulled his mask off with an indignant huff. “Why is it that no one ever respects my secret identity, huh?”

“Probably because you’re really bad at it.” Quentin gave him an appraising look. “I am shocked that you’re cute, though. Didn’t expect that. Kind of an absolute nerd brand of cute but still.”

Peter blushed and reached up to tousle his hair into some semblance of order after hours in the Spider-Man mask.

“Oh my god. You’re a blusher. This is going to be fun.” Grinning, Quentin swooped in, pushing his finger into Peter’s messy brunette mop.

“Woah, hey,” Peter laughed nervously. “You weren’t serious, were you?” When the other teen pressed his body -- and his erection -- against him, he swallowed. “Okay, you were serious, but I’m not going to--”

Quentin ran his hand down Peter’s muscular torso before grabbing his cock. “The spandex doesn’t really hide your boner, Spider-Dork.” He gave the other teen a couple of rough strokes. “Come on, nerd. I’ve been fucking myself for you for days.”

“To make me angry!”

“True.” Quentin grinned up at the taller boy. “But when it stopped pissing you off and started turning you on, I invited you in. That should count for something.” His eyes were full of need and promise as he added, “Let me get you off. It’s only fair.”

Peter used his superior height to herd Quentin until the smaller boy’s back was against the wall.

“Mmm, yeah, push me around~” Quentin purred.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Peter demanded, his hands moving down Quentin’s arms to encircle his wrists.

“Probably something to do with having god-like powers during childhood. That shit will fuck you up. But _currently_? The only thing wrong with me is that your dick isn’t in my mouth.” Quentin tried to drop to his knees but Peter gave his arms a tug, moving them up over his head, stopping him from kneeling.

With a shot of webbing, Peter secured Quentin’s wrists to the wall above his head. “Stay.”

“Mmm, kinky~” Quentin wriggled against the restraint, giving his arms an experimental tug. “Didn’t think you’d be into bondage, Parker. Not that I’m complaining. Tie me up and use me if that’s what you--” He cut off as a second shot of webbing covered his mouth.

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Peter asked as he fumbled with the fastenings that kept the bottom half of his spandex secured to the top.

**_No, not really._** Quentin’s grin was evident even in his mental voice.

Peter rolled his eyes and finally got the front of his spandex tugged down, freeing his cock.

The unfortunate drawback of opening a line of telepathic communication was a certain amount of involuntary feedback, especially when one’s mind was otherwise occupied. As such, the fact that Quentin was impressed was immediately evident, above and beyond the needy whine that came from him.

It was Peter’s turn to smirk.

**_You know, I could break out of this any time, if I wanted to._** When Peter’s only response was to grin wider, Quentin’s mental voice took on a pleading tone. **_Come on, you loser, let me go so I can suck you off. I’ll let you cum down my throat. Don’t you want to shut me up? Because I promise I won’t be able to think if you’re fucking my face with that._**

“If I wanted you to...do that...you’d already be on your knees.” Peter pushed down Quentin’s boxers, leaving the boy to squirm out of them awkwardly with his hands secured to the wall.

Quentin snorted. **_Oh, that’s cute. You’re trying so hard to be dommy but you can’t even say ‘suck my cock’. You’re adorkable, Peter._**

But then Peter was close, pressing against the other teen, one hand cupping the shaved back of his head, the other wrapping around both of their cocks.

**_Oh FUCK. Yes, yes, yes~_ **

“Glad you approve. Now stop being so noisy so we can both enjoy this, huh?”

Quentin nodded, wide-eyed.

Peter pressed a kiss to the other teen’s neck, panting against his ear as he started to move his hand, stroking them both.

Quentin’s hips bucked, thrusting into Peter’s grip, against the larger boy’s cock, so hot and hard. He whimpered. As fun as it had been putting on a show, it was so much better to actually have someone here with him.

Even trying to be quiet, his mind ran away from him. 

**_Fuck, your cock is gorgeous…_ **

**_...harder, be rough with me…_ **

**_...fuck...they don’t call you the ‘amazing’ Spider-Man for nothing…_ **

Peter gave them a particularly rough stroke. “Hush,” he breathed. Pulling his head back, he stared down at the smaller boy. “Do you want to finish or not?”

Quentin nodded, a little frantically.

Peter upped the pace, thrusting against Quentin’s cock, rutting their lengths together. Precome made them both slick, sliding back and forth in Peter’s grip.

“You’re a mess,” Peter said, but it mostly sounded amused.

**_Yeah...I’m a mess...fuck...make me cum...cum all over me...I’m ready…_ **

Peter’s hand moved from the back of Quentin’s skull into the pink hair on the top of his head and gave a tug. The other teen tossed his head back, eyes screwed shut, moaning and breathing hard through his nose.

Pushing into Peter’s grip, Quentin shrove for friction, thrusting frantically. Heat built in his stomach, and _tension_ , and... 

He banged the back of his head --once, twice, a third time -- against the wall as his orgasm crashed over him and the yank that Peter gave his hair to get him to stop was _exactly_ what he needed.

“Oh...oh golly…” Peter gasped, letting go of Quentin and angling his own cock to splatter his cum across the other teen’s stomach.

The mutant was so far gone that he didn’t even comment on ‘golly’.

As soon as the moment passed, Peter started blushing again, not quite making eye-contact as he tugged his costume back into place, tucking his softening cock into his spandex.

Quentin slumped against the wall, the webbing on his wrists supporting his weight easily.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Peter muttered, spraying something on the webs to make them dissolve. Without preamble, Quentin let himself slide to the floor, sitting heavily. Peter shuffled a bit. “Sorry. I should, uhh…”

“Go. Right. You have to report in.” Quentin chuckled bitterly. He looked up at the other boy from his position on the floor, naked and covered in cum that was quickly cooling and turning gross. “What are you gonna tell them, huh, Parker?”

“That it was an uneventful night. Same as I’ve been telling them for a week. You played video games for a bit, watched Netflix, and went to bed.” Peter turned and pulled on his mask.

Huh. That was unexpected.

Quentin pushed his hair back, smoothing it out. “Should I expect you creeping around my window again tomorrow night or…?”

“That’s my assignment.” Peter pushed open the window, one foot on the sill. “I mean, unless you’d rather I brought a pizza or something.”

“Wait. Hold on a fucking _second_.” Quentin moved to push himself up only to give up halfway through the motion. “Are you suggesting that we hang out? Instead of you spying on me like a fucking narc?”

Peter shrugged. “You don’t have to. Just thought it might be more comfortable for both of us. The outside of your building isn’t as nice as pizza and Halo.” He stepped through the window, bending gracefully to cling to the wall above, pulling himself out of sight.

“No, wait -- shit! -- hang on!” Quentin gave himself a severe mental beating over the course of two heartbeats before adding, “Bring pineapple and bacon pizza -- extra cheese! -- and a two liter of Mountain Dew and I swear I’ll blow you!”

He wasn’t quite sure that Spider-Man heard him -- until the echo of amused agreement hit his mind. Grinning, Quentin finally got to his feet and headed for the shower.


End file.
